Mix
by againstscout
Summary: Alfred Jones was a loud and friendly college student who worked part time as a cashier. Ivan Braginski was a quiet and intimidating well-known businessman from the Russian Federation. A silly little fling wouldn't cause much harm, would it? RusAme, AU
1. Chapter 1

So. I meant to write chapter two of this other Russiamerica fan fiction, right? And then suddenly three hours passed and this is what was on my screen. By the way, my space key is being a bitch and I don't carefully read this over and I could have if my light wasn't burnt out.. excuse me if there are glaring mistakes.  
**Pairing:**Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** Yup.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. _Really_.

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**Mix - 01**

Ivan Braginski was a little tipsy. And by a little tipsy, he meant a little drunk.

And by that, he meant completely inebriated.

Or something along those lines of being unable to walk in a straight line without getting confused, tripping over his own two feet and making good acquaintances with the cement.

Privyet, Comrade!

A giggle.

The cement was quite unkind to Mister Braginski, for he scratched his left cheek. Ivan pouted slightly, put out from Comrade Cement's unkindly greeting.

Lifting his massive frame from the unkind cement below him, Ivan decided that he never wanted to be the cement's comrade, anyway. It was much too cold and wet for his liking. He had had enough of such back in the Russian Federation, thank you. The unbearably large Russian steadied himself with his arms stretched wide, his face twisted in concentration. Passer-by's stared with odd looks as he continued on his way, one gloved hand on the brick building beside him and the other stretched out in the air, forcing anyone that passed close enough to duck.

He was so pathetically inebriated that he barely heard the shouting voices until it was too late.

Once again, Ivan Braginski made acquaintances with the cold, wet cement.

Such a fate. Ivan felt a bit sad, actually. He expressed it with a childish pout, before being ripped from his thoughts as the body on top of his squirmed and a palm dug into his inner thigh. He whined quietly, shoving off the imposter and crossing his arms.

"Hey, Dumb-ass, I'm not done with you! I'm goin' to kick your culo right back to that shit country you came from," Ivan heard a loud smack and an obnoxiously loud cackle. The obnoxious noise was soon after silenced, and Ivan heard a body slam into something obviously metallic. The Russian shook his head and squinted into the dark alley, trying to find the two fighting figures through his drunk faze.

There was the sounds of fists hitting flesh for a good three minutes before a sudden crash and loud cursing and more obnoxious laughter.

"Man," there was a quick pause, the silence filled with groaning an the scuffing of feet, "I am so," another crash and more loud cursing before the voice continued. "_Shwaaasted_." The made-up word was said in a high pitch, and suddenly there was more obnoxious laughter. "COME AT ME, BRO."

"You are _dead_, American. You hear me?"

The obnoxious laughing stopped and suddenly a deeper, more mad, laughter could be heard. Ivan squinted a bit more, sobering at the thought of such a brutal fight. The outline of a gruff-looking man could be seen, his shoulder shaking as he laughed and continuously drove his shoe into the smaller shadow, who was on the ground, grunting at every kick.

Ivan had a feeling that the larger man was at a greater advantage than the groaning heap below him.

The large Russian let out a strange noise, attempting to get the attention off the smaller figure, as he raised himself from a sitting position. "Privyet… I do hope there is not a problem here, da?" Ivan smiled, slowly making his way towards the gruff man. "I do not have to… _Intercept_, da?"

The man gave the groaning figure a final kick before replying. "Whatever, man. Just keep this _culo_ away from me and we're cool."

"Very nice," Ivan's voice lowered in decibels as he slowly spoke, the childish falsetto disappearing completely.

The Cuban looked momentarily uncomfortable before making his leave back into the bar the two fighters came from. Ivan clicked his tongue thoughtfully, staring down at the shaking figure on the ground.

"You are still alive, da?" the large man nudged the figure's head, carefully, with his shoe.

It would not be professional to be blood all over your shoe, now, would it?

No, it would not.

The figure twitched before groaning and rolling over, successfully showing the tall Russian how young the smaller fighter was, compared to the gruff Cuban man. He rubbed his face shakily, looking down at his hands after. Probably to check for blood. Which there was.

A lot of it, actually. It would be quite alarming if Ivan wasn't still quite drunk. "Is… Is he gone?"

"Da."

"Are," a groan. "you sure?"

"Da."

"Okay, good."

"Are," the Russian immediately felt uncomfortable when he looked down at the young teen. "Are you… Crying?"

"No," the teenager rubbed his face near-violently, turning away from the man, who he thought suspiciously looked like a bear.

Only because he couldn't see anything but the outline the streetlight was giving.

"Yes you are."

"No, shut up, stupid weirdo with a creepy accent."

Ivan felt relatively offended at that.

He crossed his arms, showing that he was offended at the young man's description. The American simply quirked his lips at the site.

"Okay, I lied.. You have a pretty cool accent.. Way cooler than my stupid Dad, at least," the teenager mumbled. "Can you help me up? I'm drunk.. and I hurt everywhere… and I'm drunk."

Ivan wrinkled his nose, thinking.

Well, trying to at least. His mind was still a tad fuzzy from such large amounts of vodka he drank such a short while ago. Hesitantly, the large man reached out and grabbed the young man from under his armpits and easily lifted him into the air. He stood there momentarily, confused as the what to do next.

The young American simply hung there, looking sheepish.

Ivan couldn't help but smile as a child would and say, "Hello, Comrade."

"Hi," the teenager mumbled, looking away.

Ivan carefully set the young man on his feet before carefully taking him by the waist and leading him towards the sidewalk.

"Thanks for, you know, helpin' me out and stuff back there," the young man looked down at his sneakers, biting his lip in thought. "I'm Alfred, by the way."

"Hello, Alfred. My name is Ivan."

"German?" the younger male tilted his head, momentarily resting his head against the taller man.

"Russian," Ivan corrected.

"Oh," Alfred nodded, feeling awkward. "Cool. I like Tetris."

Ivan couldn't help but chuckle.

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PS. - It would not hurt to leave a review telling me what you think. I really do enjoy your opinion and suggestions! I don't bite; I recently got surgery on my mouth so I really... can't bite. :l


	2. Chapter 2

So.. In short: My boss gives me a lot of hours. Whenever he doesn't, I sleep. /end excuse. ANYWAY. So, I was sitting and talking with my buddy, aaand we came to the subject as to why people from the UK, or any other country in Europe, really seem to dislike Americans. Yes, a lot of them seem to be very close-minded and obnoxious, but.. yeah. It seems kind of unfair to some Americans and it makes me sad to see that we can't all get along:( sadness.

**Pairing: **Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred**  
Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** Yeeeup.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. _Really_.

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**Mix - 02**

"What?" Alfred leaned away from the helping hands of Ivan, looking at the Russian with wide eyes. "You've _never_ seen Anastasia? _Dude_. Seriously?"

Ivan eyed him wearily, guiding the young Americans face back to where he can at least try to focus on cleaning the teens wounds whilst listening to his drunken dialogue. "_Seriously_," he tried to mimic Alfred's accent (and failed, miserably).

"Dude," he paused for a second, flinching, when Ivan ran a alcohol-soaked cloth over his nose. "_Dude._ But, like, there's _Russia_ and Saint-Petersburg, and _Russians_!"

"Really? I did not know there would be Russians!" Ivan replied with fake enthusiasm, as if to say_ 'That changes everything!'._

Alfred pouted for a moment before continuing. "_Anyway_, what I _really_ wanted to ask, is if you really talk like that."

The Russian gave him a look, standing from his kneeling position on the floor and, once again, placing his hands under Alfred's armpits and easily lifting him in the air. Alfred choked, his reply stuck in his throat as Ivan easily carried him to the living room in his minimalist apartment and carefully placed him on his (comfortable, Alfred noticed) grey couch.

"Talk like.. how, exactly? I'm fairly concerned as to how this movie portrayed a Russian speaking."

"Like..." Alfred cleared his throat and suddenly stuck his tongue out and wiggled it around, making weird and obscene noises with his throat. Ivan stared at him with disgust for a moment, watching the young American make a fool of himself in front of the older man, before breaking out into giggles.

He reached into his jacket and took out a small silver flask, twisting it open and taking a generous 'sip' before twisting it closed and placing it back into its hidden pocket. Swallowing, the tall Russian shook his head. "No, I don't believe I've ever met any Russian who has... spoken like that," his reply was choked and he looked slightly horrified at the thought of _anyone_ speaking like that.

"Oh," the American looked embarrassed, and slightly put-out. He was quiet for a moment, looking at his knees that were were in a way where it wouldn't agitate any of the fresh bruises he had obtained, before looking up at the older man with a shining smile that would light up a room, if it was possible. "How _do_ you talk, then?"

"Normally?" Ivan replied, confused. "Russians and Germans and.. Americans, though we speak differently language, we don't exactly have a certain way we move our mouths... or tongues, for that matter," he gave Alfred a look that made the younger man blush and feel embarrassed all over again.

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a weak chuckle. "Yeah."

After a moment of awkward silence, Alfred shifted and bounced slightly. The silence made him itch to make a least _some_ noise so he wouldn't feel so uncomfortable and out-of-place.

Momentarily leaving the American alone, Ivan had shakily stood up and made his way out of the small living room, shedding his long coat and neatly placing it over a hook, but left his scarf wrapped snug around his neck. Alfred watched him, eyes wide at the thought of being left alone, disappear around the corner.

Alfred politely stared at the spot Ivan had occupied until the aforementioned male returned, once again occupying his seat, and placed a new bottle of vodka onto the coffee table before them.

Alfred's eyes lit up at the sight. "Well, aren't you the nicest stranger that I've ever met?" he tilted his head and gave Ivan a small quirk of the lips, the gesture returned with a smirk.

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"And that's why you saw that guy beating me up," Alfred grinned just as wide as the Cheshire Cat from Alice In Wonderland as he finished he story, his legs draped over Ivan's thighs. The Russian had listened to every word the American had said with a look of childish curiosity on his deceptively youthful face. When he finished, Ivan smiled widely, though in a way where you couldn't see any of his teeth.

It made Alfred both wanted to pinch his cheeks and slowly inch away from the older man; he knew how to be both deceptively cute and frightening at the same time.

"Well," Ivan finally spoke, lightly patting Alfred's legs. "I would say that you are both at fault, da?"

"Well, _yeah_, I _guess_," Alfred drawled, waving his hand. "But he was the one who threw the first punch. It was all in self defense, broski."

"Oh, then _that changes everything_!" Ivan replied sarcastically before smiling once more, making Alfred shove at the Russian's shoulder lightly.

"Shut up," Alfred looked down at his empty glass with a small grin. "Hey, Ivan?"

"Hmmm?" Ivan hummed, looking at the American over his glass as he finished the rest of his vodka quickly.

"Do you think you can speak Russian? To me? Like a sentence? I've never heard anyone speak Russian before," Alfred smile, excited. "I mean, I've seen so many movies that have Russian characters but they always speak English and I think it'd be like really cool and stuff and like... yeah-" Alfred began to ramble on before the Russian silenced him with two fingers placed lightly to his lips and a small smile.

"I am sure it would not hurt to grace your ears with speaking my mother tongue," Ivan replied pleasantly. "I would love too, da."

Alfred smiled excitedly, whooping. "Dude! Awesome!"

"What would you like me to say, Alfred Jones?" Ivan asked, though he probably would choose to not say what Alfred wanted, anyway.

"I dunno," Alfred replied, suddenly serious. "I don't care, just choose something random." He shrugged.

"If you insist," the Russian replied before momentarily going silent before opening his mouth and speaking to Alfred in his mother tongue. The words that flowed from his mouth were smooth and low, and Alfred knew that if he were to ever try speaking those same words, he would trip over them like the tongue twisters he used to try when he was in middle school. the American stared at the Russian with wide eyes and an even wider smile as he finished.

After a moment of silence, the American suddenly whooped once more and clapped. "That was fucking _awesome_!" Alfred exclaimed. "Dude, Russian is the _sexiest_ foreign language I've ever heard!"

Ivan raised and eyebrow and chuckled in response.

"_Seriously,_ Dude, it _might_ be the vodka talking, but that was _so_ hot."

"_Really_." Ivan's eyebrow never lowered, and his voice was disbelieving.

"Dude, swear to God, you could get into my pants just by speaking Russian, I think," Alfred nodded solemnly at the older man. Ivan couldn't help the smirk when the words came out of the young American's mouth.

"Is that so?" he asked, tilting his head with fake innocence.

"I just said so," Alfred replied, tilting his head with confusion. He reminded Ivan of a young cat when he did that. He thought it to be quite adorable.

A giggle escaped the large Russian man.

"Da," he leaned towards the American slowly, waiting to see the young man's reaction.

Alfred sat, staring at the older man with wide eyes. Alfred watched as he leaned closer, staring at the young man's lips glazed eyes. "Ivan...?" he whispered, so quietly that the Russian barely heard.

"Shhh," Ivan shook his head, just barely, before carefully grabbing the younger male by his elbows and lifting him so he laid on top of him as he laid back on the long couch.

Alfred gazed at the Russian beneath him, mouth slightly agape and his eyes searching the other's. After a silent moment, Alfred quietly spoke.

"I can dig it," the American grinned before leaning down and taking the Russian's bottom lip in between his own in a clumsy and wet kiss. He took Ivan's face in his hands, caressing the Russian's cheek with his thumb and tilting his head to deepen the clumsy kiss.

Ivan opened his mouth and flicked his tongue against Alfred's, letting his hands fall to the younger man's hips, then slowly move upwards, under his shirt, to his waist. Alfred shivered and moved back in alarm at the coldness of the Russian's hands. Ivan shushed him once more, his eyes drooping, as he leaned his face upwards and captured the American's lips once more.

As Ivan's lips traveled south to Alfred's neck, the younger male let out a long breath before whispering, "I could get used to this," and smiling sadly.

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PS. - Hope you enjoyed. Feedback as to how I can improve is always welcomed!

This chapter was relatively unedited. I have work soon, so, yeah. Excuses!:D

I, hopefully, replied to all reviews via messages.  
Triva: Thank you! Haha, I hope you enjoyed chapter two as much as you did chapter one.  
Lone Star Girl: You've seemed to turn off private messaging, so I'd like to thank you, publicly, for reviewing. I'm glad you enjoyed chapter one and I hope you enjoyed chapter two as well! I'm glad I could make you laugh as much as you did.

That reminds me! It's TMI Tuesday so I'd like to all let you know that I might be signing up to become a Marine! Freaky, isn't it?

PPS. - I made a livejournal. I feel uncomfortable. Because, it's just me. Um. Anyone else have a livejournal that would live to be my friend on there? :)


	3. Chapter 3

Halli-Hallo! Na, alda? /other German slang. Sorry if this is short and/or awkward. I keep watching the clock because I have work and then I kept checking Valve for stuff... Mmhhhm. That's my excuse. Now, off to watch some hockey and eat some pancakes with maple syrup while talking about my free health care, eh!

And I half-cocked edited this. YAY.

**Pairing: **Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred**  
Fandom:** Hetalia**  
Disclaimer:** Is no mine, is no mine!**  
Warnings:** Homo stuff in here, fer real. Word. /other American slang****

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**Mix - 03  
**

Alfred couldn't help but roll onto his side and curl into the warmth (that seemed to radiate) next to him. He hadn't the strength in him to open his eyes to the blinding light of the morning, never mind actually getting up to face the freezing air that made itself known when the blankets slipped past his bare shoulders.

Everything ached; from his nose, to his stomach, to his lower back and thighs.

Without thinking, Alfred let out a loud groan as he uncurled his sore limbs to lay flat on his aching stomach. He felt sick and dizzy and wanted to throw up all over the cold floor that laid below him.

Reaching under the cool pillow he rested his head on, the young American squeezed and breathed in deeply, trying to calm the churning of his abused stomach. A comforting scent of expensive cologne and sweat filled his nose and he couldn't help but let out another odd sound from his throat. He felt awful and comfortable at the same time.

Too bad he didn't remember where he was, and why.

Alfred paused at the thought, his sore limbs going rigid. A sudden shift to his right alerted him of another presence, making him let out a long breathe from his nostrils in an attempt to calm his nerves.

The figure that laid next to him let out slight snore, obviously dead to the world and therefore completely oblivious the inner turmoil and confusion of their bed partner's.

Alfred didn't let himself open his eyes, or make any other indication that he was awake, as he felt (and heard) the other body shift closer to his and curl their long arm around his waste and worm its way under his stomach.

Alfred let out odd noise from the back of his throat as the cold limb came in contact with his skin. He shivered and attempted to arch away from the offending ice-like limb, failing as the other let out a child-like whine ("_Nooo_,") and pulled Alfred into a too-tight embrace.

Alfred couldn't help but yelp as his back came into contact with something very _prominent_ and, in his opinion, _extremely fucking awkward_.

Panicking, Alfred began to wiggle and tug, trying to force himself out of the perpetrator's strong hold and, in the end, failing. All he succeeded to do was make the other male moan and tighten his grip.

Alfred let out an annoyed huff as the figure behind him curled around the young American. If Alfred hadn't been so confused, he would have thought that it was, if not sweet, very comfortable and domestic.

Alfred shook his head at that thought and attempted to worm his way down and out of the other man's arms. He grunted and twisted his way through the larger man's steel grip, trying to keep away from the... _very prominent thing_... that had made itself known just a couple of minutes ago.

"Fucking shit, I'm going to freaking kick someones ass if this guy tightens his arms one more time..." Alfred grumbled as he lifted his arms and awkwardly maneuvered himself out of the large man's grip,

and found himself slipping off of the bed and making a large _thump_ as his backside landed on the cold, _cold_ hardwood floors. Making a face as a sharp pain crawled its way through his spine, he got onto his hands and knees and crawled across the large, plain bedroom and into the bright sitting room.

"Where are my pants," Alfred hummed, lifting himself to his knees and looking around the cold apartment. "Aha!" he grinned widely as he spotted a heap of clothing next to the couch. His stomach still churning and his head dizzy, the teenager made slowly made his way to the pile on his hands and knees.

He paused at he got to the pile a sat back, squinting. Then, he remembered.

"_Where the fuck are my glasses_?" Alfred's jaw dropped as he tried to remember. He whimpered, grumbled and whined as he came to the conclusion that he just _couldn't remember_. He could barely remember how he had gotten here! Scoffing to himself, he grabbed his jeans and the first shirt he saw underneath them and carefully put each on, buttoning the shirt awkwardly.

It was a tad big and fit him awkwardly, and he didn't exactly have any boxer briefs on, but he didn't care.

Shakily getting to his feet, he shoved his already socked feet into his worn-out sneakers and, as best as he could, raced out the door without looking back.

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Ivan slowly let himself wake up. He was comfortable, warm even, unaffected by the chilly air of his flat. He felt satisfied, fulfilled, maybe even happy. If anything, he was simply satisfied from last nights... _happenings_.

Ivan smirked.

_Happenings_, indeed.

Finally, the large Russian opened his eyes and turned his head to check his alarm clock.

**6:15 AM**

Ivan stretched out and groaned, loosening his muscles. He felt so _comfortable_ and he didn't even know why. The bed was void of any other person beside himself.

Which wasn't exactly a surprised, really. Who _wouldn't_ wake up to such obnoxiousness the young American had displayed just a couple of hours ago?

The large man let out a childish giggle.

He couldn't help himself, honestly. He had been awake the entire time. He had watched the American's every struggle and heard all of the odd noises he had let out.

Of course, it was just a bonus that he was able to watch the young man crawl, his tush so clearly visible.

Ivan almost felt warm and fuzzy at the memory. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointment that the young American had left so quickly.

Ivan let himself pout at the thought.

The Russian rolled over and sat up, quickly getting to his feet and walking out of his room and to the kitchen, not bothering to put any sort of clothing on.

He lived alone, anyway, so it didn't exactly matter.

Plus, he simply wanted a nice, warm cup of tea to start his Saturday.

It didn't very long to complete the task. He only needed to take two steps to get his mug, another two to get a tea bag and a single step to fil his metal teapot with luke-warm water and place it on the burner.

Ivan enjoyed the pleasant atmosphere around him as he gathered up the heap of clothes and his nice pair of dress shoes, straightening his couch cushions and gathering the left-out cups from the coffee table.

After washing said cups, he walked into the living room once more and took the empty bottle of vodka, pausing at the small glint of light that made itself known from the corner of his eye.

Turning his head, he noticed a pair of wire-rimmed prescription glasses.

Ivan couldn't help but smirk.

_Perhaps I will see that silly, obnoxious American again._

_._

_.  
_

PS: Yeah. I just. Yeah. Yup. Cute, Scout, real cute. I know... Disappointed? Content? Tell me what you think. :o  
By the way: _G. Wings -_ Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed this! And I most definitely did pat myself on the back. I feel like my English is terrible sometimes.

Anywaaaay, _yeah_. You know that awkward moment where you're talking about how many reviews you got on your new story to your friend in class and they want to read it, but they don't know you write dudes with other dudes? And then they whip out their Amazon Kindle that has, like, internet on it and asks you what your story/pen name on the site is and you're just like "...:U"?  
Yeah:(.

In other news, I got into college. _Yay._ :l

Edit: I changed the X's to a series of periods. Just because. D:


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! It's late.

**Pairing:** Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** I disclaim.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. Really.

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Mix - 04

"Matt! Open the fucking door before I kick it down," There were three sharp knocks that followed the obnoxious yelling of a jittery American. "I'm freezing my balls off!"

The quiet Canadian was left unheard as he raced to the door, practically screeching, "No, no, no, noononononoo," as loud as he could.

Which wasn't exactly very loud, but that was beside the point.

"Finally," Alfred exclaimed as soon as the Canadian turned the lock on the door and pulled it open. Alfred hopped from one foot to the other, his hands stuffed into his armpits for warmth. As his smaller twin stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and complete annoyance, he simply smiled widely. "Hey, bro."

Leaving the door wide open for his brother, Matthew simply turned around and walked away.

Grinning at the instant warmth he felt when he more-or-less ran into the small, two bedroom flat, he shut the door with his foot and suddenly lowered himself onto his hands and knees. He awkwardly shuffled forward and peered behind the worn-out, forest green sofa. "Where's my favorite cat?" Alfred wondered allowed, trying to get his feline's attention. "Navi?"

A moment passed until Alfred could hear - just barely - the small pitter of feline paws against the wooden floor. Alfred spun around on his knees, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and easily picked up his favourite feline and kissed his head. "Hey, buddy," Alfred said to the purring cat, laying himself on the couch and setting Navi on his stomach. "how's my best friend?"

Meow.

Alfred gasped. "Really now."

Another meow.

Alfred tsked. "Should've known I couldn't trust you alone with Mattie over-night."

His cat replied with lifting his paw and pressing it against the American's cheek, meowing once more. Alfred chuckled and lightly took the paw into his hand and kissed it.

"Augh, that probably wasn't very sanitary," Alfred spoke to himself, grimacing.

"It's not like it makes much of a difference, you live like a dirt bag already," came a mumbled reply as Matthew stepped into the room, checking his phone. Alfred tilted his head, staring at his brother upside-down with a contemplating look.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." There was an audible snap as the Canadian shut his phone. "I'm going to work, okay?" Alfred replied with a noncommittal grunt. "Remember. You have work, too. At three. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Okay?"

"Okay," Alfred tilted his head again and gave his brother a thumbs-up. "Work at three, got'cha."

Matthew took a hesitant step forward before pausing. "Don't burn the flat down while I'm gone."

Alfred snorted and Matthew was out the door, leaving the American alone with his best friend and favourite feline.

"Just you an' me, huh, bud?" Alfred gave the cat a pained smile, patting his head. "All we need to do is find a remedy for this thing we call a hangover!"

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"Okay, so maybe eating so much mac n' cheese was a bad idea, but at least I stopped throwing up," Alfred groaned, turning away from the accusing stare of his cat. "Stop looking at me like that.

Navi blinked.

"Shut up."

Alfred wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up, shakily making his way to the bathroom sink. After a couple of dry heaves, the American was able to stand a little straighter and peer at himself in the mirror.

Oh, wow.

He looked gross.

He hair stuck up in awkward angles, untamed and slightly greasy to the touch. He face shined with oil and there were prominent dark circles under his eyes.

To top it off, the shirt he was wearing wasn't even his. It was an expensive-looking white dress shirt that lacked the wrinkles most of Alfred's clothes had from the lack of folding and the over-abundance carelessness.

He didn't even button it up correctly!

Alfred let out a heavy breathe from his nose and lifted his hands to the offending shirt, swiftly unbuttoned it and threw it on the floor. His pants and socks soon followed.

"Might as well take a shower," He muttered to himself, hopping into the tub and pulling the curtains closed.

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After struggling to put his seldom-used contacts into place, and a long search for his cell phone, Alfred left his shared flat and raced to the large department store he worked at.

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"Alfred," the German man's eyebrows were raised in surprise. "You're actually on time today."

Said American chuckled breathlessly and nodded, sitting on the table the sales associates used for meal breaks.

"Yeah, I just figured-"

"Alfred!" A cheerful, petite Italian suddenly dominated Alfred's line of site, cutting him off. "You're working today!"

"Hey, Feliciano! What's up?" Alfred grinned as he returned his friends hug, listening to him ramble about their German manager being too strict.

"But anyway, Alfred," Feliciano sat down next to the American. "How was your day off?"

Alfred cringed.

"Stuff," was the best he could come up with.

Expecting more than the simple answer, Feliciano was visibly disappointed. "Oh-"

Ludwig cleared his throat. "Alfred. You're on main. Get to register four. Now."

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred rolled his eyes and grinned at the two before making his way out of the room and onto the floor and weaved his way through isles and clothing racks. As he made his way down the children's clothing section, he heard his named being called.

"Al, hey Al!"

"Yeah? What is it, Gilbert?"

"Well, as awesome as I am, I can't find what this customers looking for. Do you mind if I pass the buck?" Alfred sighed.

"I'm main, I don't think-"

"Come on, Al, don't be so un-awesome!"

Alfred sniffed at the Prussian's comment. "Fine, where are they?"

"It's that big guy in the tan over coat, right there."

Alfred paused. "He looks familiar." he looked over to Gilbert, who simply shrugged.

Doing the same, Alfred made his way over to the customer, plastering a wide grin onto his face. "`Yo! Would you like any help, sir?"

The customer looked over his shoulder, and smiled something akin to a child's grin before replying. "Da! Spasibo."

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AN: Shortest chapter yet. I'm sorry. :(  
G. Wings: Thank you so much! I'm going to World Languages and Cultures (German/Russian) so I can take the steps to become a translator.

Anyway, yeah. I'M GOING TO AMERICA, FOR THE RAMMSTEIN CONCERT. AHH. Okay. Yeah.  
I'm excited. Yeah.

I'm tired, so I'm going to bed now. But; what did you think of this chapter? Boring? Filler? Stupid? Any mistakes? Whatever. I know it was boring.  
And what Ivan said was, um. "Yes! Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

It is Tuesday again! I didn't exactly read this over, but if there's any mistakes you can tell me! I'd invest in a beta, but...

**Pairing:** Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** I disclaim:(  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. Really.

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**Mix - 05**

Alfred took to nibbling on his lower lip as he took a few steps back.

_Away from the large Russian with the fluffy hat an__d crème-coloured__ scarf._

Alfred took another step back.

_Far, far away._

Ivan's lower lips jutted out in a small pout as he watched the young American attempt to be casual and inconspicuous in his escape. He took easy, long strides forward and took the younger male's cheek in his hand and tugged, smiling like the fiend he was.

"He- ow! Let _go_," Alfred whined. Ivan tugged once more. "Oww, _ow_, let go_ letgoletgoletgo_!"

"That is for leaving at such an early hour in the morning," Ivan explained, still tugging. Alfred let out a whine once more before reaching forward and taking the Russian's left cheek into his right hand and giving it a tug.

"Ow, let go," Ivan's lower lip attempted to jut out once more in a slight pout, but the stretching of his cheek made it slightly difficult. "_Alfreeed,_" he tried again, whining.

"You first."

"Nyet*."

_What? _"….. Yes."

"No."

The two tugged on each other's cheeks harder, glaring.

"You're gonna make me break out," Alfred whined. "my skin's sensitive!"

"Oh, poor, poor child," Ivan replied, his accented voice dripping with sarcasm. Alfred glared and reached up, taking the Russian's other's cheek into his free hand and pulled outwards.

"How you like me now, Fuzzy Hat? Not such a child now, _huh_?"

Ivan simply whined once more. "_Alfred_, that hurts!"

"Alfred, like, what the hell are you doing to that customer?"

In an instant, all hands were dropped and Alfred was turned towards his Polish coworker, Feliks.

"Hey, dude, sup?"

The blonde just rose a single eyebrow, his arms crossed, leaning his weight on one leg.

Alfred simply cleared and throat and turned back towards the large Russian, who was currently rubbing his sore cheeks. "Let me help you find your shirt," he left no room for Ivan to say any different as he grabbed one of his hands and lead him towards the men's section.

.

.

.

"What about this shirt?"

"It is too small."

Alfred sighed as he turned back towards the small wooden table of dress shirts and began to refold the dark gray button-down he had grabbed.

"You're freakin' picky as shit, aren't you?" He muttered under his breathe as he put the shirt back onto the neat pile and smoothed it down with his hand. He turned back towards the tall male, leaning the back of his thighs against the table.

Ivan giggled, annoyed. "I'd say I was pleased to see you so quickly after you ran away from me, but at this point I would be lying."

"Yeah, _okay_. Like it's my fault we don't have your size in shirts. Why do you need another shirt, anyway? The one you have on is fine. You probably have tons more back at your place, too."

"Da*," Ivan replied. "yet this morning I noticed that one of my shirts has so suddenly _disappeared_." the Russian gave him a pointed stare.

Alfred raised an eyebrow at the older man's childish facial expression.

"I'll give you your stupid shirt back when I get _mine _back. And my _underwear, thanks."_

"Ah, yes," Ivan stopped looking through the rack of clothing and looked up at the young American. "that is right. I have your underwear, also." he couldn't help the small giggle.

"Shut up." Alfred looked away, forever embarrassed.

Ivan, amused, gave Alfred a small smile that showed the top row of his teeth. "I also have your glasses."

Alfred perked up at that. He couldn't help the large smile that spread over his face as he pushed himself away from the small wooden table, taking a small step towards the Russian. "You do? Really? I thought I lost those forever! Do you have them right now? May I have them? Please?" Alfred's mouth ran a mile a minute, his excitement bubbling over. He held an endearing hopeful look on his youthful face as he stared up at the older man with happy curiosity.

"They are at my flat," Ivan explained. "I did not think to bring them with me. It is not every day you run into someone you think you will never see again, da?"

Alfred gave him a small pout. "Yeah, I guess."

Ivan tilted his head, a look of curiosity on his face. "May I drop them off at whoever you live later on?"

"With my other stuff?"

Ivan's lips twitched. "Da.*"

Alfred shrugged. "I guess it would hurt, right?"

"Da."

"… Yeah."

Ivan stared down at the American expectedly, eyes wide. Alfred simply stood there, feeling like he was fifteen again.

"May I have your address?" Ivan finally asked.

"Y-yeah, man, it's…"

.

.

.

Alfred sat on his bed quietly, staring at the blinking screen in front of him, with a controller in his hands and a spoonful of mango sorbet in his mouth. Navi purred loudly next to him, laying on his stomach.

It was a peaceful Saturday night, to put it simply.

So when his doorbell rang, he couldn't help but jump and choke on his spoon momentarily before altogether dropping his controller and taking it out of his abused mouth, throwing it into the half-empty carton on his bedside table.

Wiping his mouth, he made his way toward the front door and unlocked it. "It's open."

Silence.

Alfred stood there, staring at the door.

"Okay…" he mumbled, opening the door himself.

Ivan stood there with a remarkably peaceful expression, a small bag in his hand. "Ah, privyet*, Alfred."

"Yeah, hi," was Alfred's simple, awkward reply. The older man simply stood there, smiling. "…want to come inside?"

"That would be nice," Ivan replied, taking a step into Alfred's shared flat. He looked around with a curious interest. "This is very homely."

"Thanks," Alfred replied lamely, nervously.

Ivan turned to the younger man, still smiling. "Here are your things. May I have my shirt?" he held out the small bag and Alfred took it, their fingers brushing slightly with the small exchange. Alfred coughed lamely and nodded.

"Yeah, it's in my room, follow me," he trailed off, scuffling awkwardly towards the small room he called his own.

As he walked in, he took his controller and quickly shut off the console and television, putting everything back into place.

"It is surprisingly neat in here," was all Ivan had to say.

Alfred nodded, bending down to open a drawer and pull out a wrinkled dress shirt.

Needless to say, Ivan enjoyed the view with quiet satisfaction.

"Here," was all Alfred said, shoving the shirt into the Russian's arms. He stood there and stared up at the larger man. Ivan did the same with a slight smile.

"Would you like to have dinner?" Ivan asked, breaking the once-sided awkward silence between the two males. Alfred's eyes widened at the question and he looked up from staring at the bored-looking feline that laid silently on his bed.

"What?" the question flew out of his mouth and he shut it quickly, making a slight clicking noise with his teeth.

Ivan played with the frayed ends of his crème-coloured scarf. Alfred stared at the Russian's dark-furred ushanka, avoiding the other's eyes. "I would like to have dinner with you."

"And by dinner you mean sex."

"It's a possibility. Yet, no. Just dinner, da?" Ivan smirked. "You will come, da?"

"Um," To Alfred, it didn't seem like the Russian was giving him much of a choice. "Sure?"

The older male smiled, pleased with himself. "Monday night, yes? Eight PM. I will come to, ah, pick you up."

"Sure," was Alfred's lame reply.

Ivan smiled with childish happiness as he stepped forward and took Alfred's chin in his gloved hand and kissed his lips with a gentleness Alfred hadn't felt since he was a child. Alfred took a step back, cheeks dusted red.

"I will see you then, Alfred."

"Yeah… Bye, Ivan," was all Alfred could say as he watched as Ivan led himself out of his flat and into the cold December air.

.

.

So. I would like to ask you all a question I would love to be answered in a review or message or e-mail or whatnot!  
Anyway, well, as you may not know because you do not know what the hell I do outside of writing and listening to Rammstein and seeing army sergeants during my free time, I really love watching and playing video games that have to do with zombies and all the junk! And what best to do other than put my two favorite things together? Hetalia and zombies. Yeah.  
What I'm asking is, is that if I wrote something with Ivan and Alfred going through an apocalypse sort of ordeal, would any of you read it? I'm just wondering, yeah.  
Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this! I tried to make it longer since the last post was so short:(.

I'd also like to mention that the top three countries that read this are: America, Canada, and the Russian Federation.  
I think that's very neat. And, being in America for the Rammstein concert was pretty cool. I met some cool kids.

G. Wings: Haha, it is not so bad to learn languages. I'm sure you could easily pick up on a second language if you wanted to! Or a third, I don't know. I'm sure America offers Spanish as a necessity class at some point, yeah? Sorry last chapter was so short. :(

Da (cyrillic: да): Yes.  
Nyet/Net (cyrillic: нет): No.  
Privyet/Privet (cyrillic: привет): Hello.


	6. Chapter 6

M'sorry that this is kind of late. I fell asleep after I got back from class and I just haven't been in a great mood altogether lately. Srz.  
Btw. Listened to Rammstein while writing this entire chapter. Te Quiero Puta kept coming on, so, I don't even know, man.

**Pairing:**Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** Yup.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. _Really_.

.

.

**Mix - 06**

Alfred was about ready to throw a heavy object at the speaker right above him that had been blasting terrible Christmas music since nine in the morning.

Ever since November twenty-fourth on, the company had replaced their normal light tunes with Christmas jingles that the American was sure were made during World War II.

No, even before that.

Well, that was an exaggeration. But, like. Just.

Just, fuck. This music was god-awful and he wanted to rip his ears off and take a metal bat to every speaker spewing the sad excuse of Christmas music.

"_Santa baby, I am such an awfully big slut-"_ Alfred started to sing as he walked down the isle after putting back a misplaced item, only to be cut off by the look of Ludwig staring at him with an immensely displeased expression. Alfred simply held his hands up in mock surrender, a silent promise not to modify the lyrics of the song anymore.

Ludwig simply stalked off, back straight and arms stiffly at his sides.

After watching him disappear down another isle, Alfred quickly took out his cell phone and checked the time. 5:30.

Time to get home and get ready.

.

.

.

Alfred stood before the mirror in his bathroom, smoothing out the collar of his shirt.

A polo would suffice as not too dressy, yet not too casual, right?

..Right?

Alfred stared at the dark green material blankly, then at the black slacks he usually wore for work. Then stared down at his worn-out, black leather boots with a confused frown.

"Hey, Matt?" he called out, turning off the light in the bathroom and walking towards his brother's bedroom. "Matt?"

The American heard and grunt and a thump that was followed by a sharp, "_What_?"

Alfred, once again, frowned. He felt like a young teenager again, confused and nervous. "Do I look okay?"

"What the Hell?" the door was yanked open and the Canadian appeared between the frame and the actual door, blocking the view of his room. "You look fine, Al. You're about the cockiest guy I've ever met and you're asking me how you look. Are you fishing for an ego boost or something?"

"First of all, you really need to speak up or something because it's seriously a chore to make conversation with you sometimes," Alfred joked, grinning. "Second, I'm going out and I don't know where yet so I was wondering if this was fine, alright?"

"Yeah, Al, you're a regular stud," Matthew's voice sounded a bit sarcastic with his reply as he shut the door in the American's face, but Alfred smiled nonetheless and walked away with his head a little higher.

.

.

.

Alfred shivered as he sat on the stoop to his flat's building, listening to his MP3-player for entertainment as he waited for Ivan to show up.

He goofed around with the touch screen, rearranging icons and changing the backgrounds every so often, shaking the expensive item to shuffle around his music choices. It was around seven-fifty and he'd already been waiting outside for about ten minutes, just in case the Russian came early, or something.

Not that he was, like, eager or anything. The guy was a complete stranger.

He could be a complete psycho for all he knew, so.

No, he definitely was not eager.

At all.

Okay, so maybe a little.

Alfred perked up as he changed the song once more and a particularly good beat began to play. The song started quiet, with the musicians whistling in a simple tune. He listened as he watched a peculiarly large SUV came to a stop in the empty space in front of his building and house the lights shut off as the engine was cut, and heard the slight noise of a car door being closed.

The music began to really play and Alfred was still watching the scene before him, as a certain violet-eyed man walked around the large car and towards the younger male, wind blowing through his hair and making his long tan coat flutter about.

To put it simply, the music that was playing and the scene right in front of the younger American went quite well together.

All Alfred could do was stare on, his lips parted.

Okay, so maybe Ivan didn't _look_ like a psycho serial killer rapist that liked to play cat and mouse. But Alfred couldn't really know that.

I mean, have you seen the show _Dexter_? Yeah. _Yeah._ Exactly.

A normal-looking guy but really he was a _bad-ass killer_.

So, yeah. There's that.

And, yeah. Alfred was making himself nervous with his thoughts of serial killers looking like normal men with normal lives, so he abruptly stood up on the second to last step of the stood, looking slightly taller than the large Russian in front of him.

Alfred gave him a tight smile, still trying to get rid of the violent thoughts. "Hey."

"Hello, Alfred," Ivan gave him a closed-mouth smile, eyes wide and face looking as youthful as ever. The thickness of the man's accent hit him with full force, as he hadn't spoken to the Russian in a few days. It kind of sounded like the man hadn't spoken a lick of English in years.

"What?" Alfred heard Ivan ask, sounding slightly unsure of himself. The American grinned and wiped the look of slight shock from his expression.

"Sorry, kind of forgot how thick your accent was," was his reply.

Ivan then giggled, amused. Speaking in his native tongue - to confused the American or just by for of habit - he led Alfred to his truck and let him in, closing the door for him before returning to the drivers seat and starting the large automobile up.

After a few moments where Ivan didn't even attempt to begin to drive, Alfred threw a confused glance towards the older male. Ivan was simply staring at the younger man, his expression expecting.

"What?" Alfred asked, confused. His eyes shifted from side to side at the Russian's look. "…Yes?"

"Are you not going to give kiss?" Ivan's lower lip jutted out cutely. "To your date?"

"… A kiss."

"Da."

"Right," Alfred murmured. "Is this obligatory or do I have a choice?"

"It is a must, Alfred," Ivan replied. "Since we _are_ on date, _da_?"

Alfred just about deflated. "I guess… yeah."

"Come and give me kiss, then, da?" Ivan smiled childishly, excited as Alfred shifted in his seat closer to him.

Alfred hesitated for a moment. "Just one kiss, right?" Ivan couldn't help but laugh and nod.

"Just a single kiss, Alfred."

Alfred leaned in and tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes. Ivan closed the distance and pressed his soft lips against Alfred's slightly chapped ones and grabbed the back of his neck to keep him there, close. Alfred sighed into the kiss and both tilted there heads in opposite directions before closing the distance once more, moving their lips together in a small kiss that made Alfred's hands shake as he lifted them to grab onto the Russian's scarf.

Alfred pulled back slightly, barely letting out a shaky breathe as Ivan moved nonce more and pressed his lips back against the American's in a deeper, open-mouthed kiss.

As the two drew back for a breathe, Alfred couldn't help asking. "Just a single kiss, huh?" he chuckled breathlessly.

"I don't see you, ah, complaining, _nyet_?" Ivan replied, lowering his hands to Alfred's biceps. "Now, come closer, I have not had enough of you."

"Wha-" Alfred yelped as the Russian easily picked him up and settled him on his lap, straddling. "_In the car_?" Alfred whispered harshly, his ears burning bright red.

Ivan simply shush him and leaned in once more, silencing the awkward American.

.

.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a choice between an actual date or them just ending up doing... other stuff. I guess you might know the result, hm? Anyway. Yeah, if you see any space mistakes, it's because my spacebar doesn't enjoy spacing out my words anymore:l. I need a keyboard cleaner or something.  
Drop a line in the review box to tell me what you think, if you want! I love hearing opinions and just everything in between!  
I tried with the zombie thing but I don't know, It seems to be a bust:/ BUT. Since I told you darlings my idea, VioletLolitaPop27 has acquired an idea for her very own zombie hetalia story! Like, holy shit, when she posts it in the new year, JUST FREAKING READING IT JDSFKJDSKLFJDS. She's an amazing writer and I'm not just saying that or anything I'm just like seriously telling you that she is and just, yeah. Read it when she posts it because I'm going to read it because. I'm cool. And you should be cool too.

ANYWAY.  
_Anonsup_: That was very helpful, and I thank you very much! I didn't know American school offered Latin and German, I just knew that sometimes they offered French, Italian, and American Sign Language while making Spanish some kind of a necessity. :] Thank you for the very helpful and nice review.  
_G. Wings_: Awww, noooo. I'll talk to you in German anytime you want! Haha. I don't know much French, it's actually extremely choppy and whenever I attempt I get disgusted looks:l It's kind of sad:(


	7. Chapter 7

FILLER CHAPTER AHOY. I'm sorry. It had to be done, though. Because it would simply be a perfect world if Ivan and Alfred just kept having sex without the DRAMA. fdjfkdsjfkdjfkldf  
The writing might suck because I'm angry at the world for being the biggest douche-canoe EVER and i'm just tired.

:(

**Pairing:**Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** Yup.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. _Really_.

.

.

**Mix - 07**

Alfred let out a shaky breathe and hummed, licking his dry lips. He kept his eyes closed and his head back. Ivan's lips were on his neck, licking and sucking and biting and _marking_. His teeth grazed as he trailed his mouth across his throat and over that hollow part, where Alfred couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh. He was always ticklish.

At Alfred's laugh, Ivan couldn't help but smile and continue, kissing up, up, up. Up Alfred's jaw and his chin and finally to his lips once more. Ivan stared at the youthful face, the drowsy facial expression, the easy smile.

The easy smile that widened, showing a little bit of the American's gums and most of his straight, white teeth. The easy smile that made Alfred's eyes squint slightly. His tongue poked out slightly in between the top and bottom row as he tried to hold in a laugh when Ivan's fingers ghosted over the sensitive part of his neck.

"You are so playful," Ivan said, speaking in Russian. He lowered his lips to Alfred's cheek and trailed kisses to Alfred's nose, to his other cheek, to his lips. "It gives me warmth." Ivan dipped his tongue to lick Alfred's top lip before taking it in between his own in an awkward kiss. Alfred responded in kind, kissing Ivan's lips lazily as he kept his hands in between their chests.

"It's really cold in here," was all Alfred replied when they broke apart. "My feet are freezing, dude."

Ivan yelped when the younger male lifted his foot and placed it between his thighs. "Kolkolkol."

"What the fuck was that?"

.

.

.

The next morning, Alfred woke up sore, cold, and alone.

Not that the fact that he was alone bothered him.

At all.

Not. At. All.

Alfred stared at his tired, messy reflection in the bathroom, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and the water running endlessly. The area around his eyes were discolored; they were a slight dark purple. His hair was half sticking up and half matted to his cheeks.

"Fuck," Alfred mumbled, running a hand over his face. He finished brushing his teeth before heading over to his twin's bedroom door.

"Ma-a-att," Alfred whined, slamming his palm against the bare door. The was a loud cough and quick shuffling before the door was yanked open, revealing a slim, spiky-haired figure. "You're not Matt."

"Hi Alfred," the Dutch boy replied, coughing into his fist and leaning on the door frame. His eyes were a peculiar shade of red for so early in the morning. Alfred squinted his tired eyes, his lips quirking upwards.

"Smoking a blunt so early in the morning?" Alfred inquired, mirroring the Dutch male's pose. "Where's my brother?"

Martijn* gave the American a small grin and opened the door wider, leaving Alfred to find his twin sitting on a Canadian flag carpet with a blunt in between his pointer finger and thumb.

"Hi, Matt," Alfred simply waved.

"What?" Matthew asked, sitting up straighter, shifting his eyes around the room while trying to subtly snuff out the blazing end with his fingers. "You couldn't knock?"

Alfred tilted his head, one side of his top lip lifting to show a canine. "I did knock. Are you that high?"

"I'm not high," was the Canadian quick reply.

"Yeah, alright, Matt," Alfred leaning his head on the door frame. "I believe you. Did Dutch Boy sleep over again?"

"We had a slumber party," Martijn replied, sitting on the end of Matt's bed. "You weren't invited."

"Obviously."

"You mad?"

_Not really. You probably jerked off to Good Home and Gardens and watched bunny videos on YouTube, _went through Alfred's mind before he replied.

"You," Alfred pointed to the grinning Dutch male. "Shut up._ You_," Alfred pointed to Matthew. "Breakfast."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Bite me."

Alfred stopped walking away and turned around. "What what that?"

"…..Pancakes for breakfast."

.

.

.

"Man, Feliciano, how do you do it?" Alfred groaned, running his hand down his face for the third time that day as he leaned against the break table.

"Do what?" the little Italian replied, blinking in curiosity at his coworker. He momentarily put down the items he was scanning to turn to the taller American. "Work so much?"

"That, too, but no," Alfred grinned. "Like.. When you and the big German.. Do _stuff_."

"_Stuff_? …Work? Ve ~"

"No-o, like," Alfred paused, looking down at his nametag. "Like, sex. I'm dying here, standing for hours. My ass hurts."

Feliciano, while trying to stop himself from smiling too wide, blushed a bright red. "Alfred has a boyfriend? Ve ~"

"I wouldn't call him that," Alfred laughed at the Italian excitement for him. "We pretty much just.. Do stuff and be on our way."

Feliciano Vargas tilted his head, confused. "You don't do it out of love? Ve ~"

"Love?" Alfred asked, a little alarmed at the thought. "Love." then, he laughed. _Love_. Right.

"_Si_!" Feliciano exclaimed. "Ludwig and I do _that_ out of love, ve ~"

"I don't get it," Alfred replied. "You guys waited until you told each other you loved them? That's so weird."

"Ve ~ I've known Ludwig since high school ~ plenty of time to fall in love, ve ~" The Italian let out a squeaky giggle. "Ludwig~"

"Ja?"

The two coworkers jumped at the deep voice as the door to the break room opened, showing the stern face of their manager.

"Ludwig! _Ciao ~ Ti amo ~_"

Alfred slipped out of the break room and onto the floor, the conversation he had just had with the small Italian swimming through his mind.

.

.

.

Ivan walked through the halls of the large corporation he was visiting, making his way towards the elevators, staring down at his phone as he went along.

Scrolling, scrolling, clicking.

The office was much quieter than he thought it would be. Perhaps it's because it is a holiday?

Ivan didn't know.

He quickly dialed the number for the office he was heading towards.

"Hello, thank you for calling. You've reached the office of Arthur Kirkland, how may I help you?" a young woman's voice reached his ears after two rings.

"Hello, I am here for a meeting with Mister Kirkland. Please inform him that I will be there in less than five minutes. It is Ivan Bragisnki."

"Yes sir, Mister… Braginski," the receptionist replied. "Have a nice day, happy holidays!"

"Da," was Ivan's simple reply before he disconnected the call and entered the elevator. The Russian took the time to straight his suit and fix his suspenders and check for any suspicious stains from the night before.

None.

Ivan felt a sated smile stretch his face, thinking about the younger male.

_Ding._

Time for business.

.

.

OH WOW HEY SCOUT THAT KIND OF SUCKED.  
yeah, i kno rite fjsdkfjdkjfkds  
IF I DIDN'T REPLY TO YOUR REVIEW, YOU CAN SLAP ME. i've just been tired and sleepy and stressed and fdjkfdjsfkdljfkldsjfkd:(

_:_ See, the thing is, Russia can't exactly tell them apart, and It'll cause some difficulties for sure. Just saying. Not foreshadowing. At all. Nope.  
D'aw, alright, well I bid you good luck with that and I hope you find your notes, or at least take another language class, yeah!  
_Mars too lazy to log in:_ Haha, aw, thank you. Your review made my day, really. And I'm glad you're enjoying this so far. and _yes_ this story's rating will rise in later chapters when i grow enough balls to right actual sex scenes. and yes djskalfjdsklfjdklf rammstein is freakin' awesome and i love them and fdjfkldjfk. Aww, that's so cool. You know sign language? I wish I did. It seems like an incredible skill to have. And, not to worry, me too with the Russian / Latin. Thank you so much for the help! Hope I didn't disappoint you with the badly written lame chapter.

MARTIJN : THE NETHERLANDS._ YOU CAN THANK UDYJAY FOR THAT._ I love the Netherlands. He seems like he'd be Canada's blunt-smoking buddy. They'd be broskis, I'm sure (not really). And, I named him Martijn because that was my friend's name who lived in the Netherlands and I decided to remember him and show him how much I kind of sort of miss his bad English and girl-y face:)


	8. Chapter 8

I didn't get a chance to read this over before posting this because my computer keeps spazzing and turning the keyboard to German.  
_GERMAN. _You'd think it would know I was trying to type some English.

**Pairing:**Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** Yup.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. _Really_.

.

.

Mix - 08

Alfred hummed to himself to the music that was blasting from his TV, his iPod hooked up to his game system. "Gotta love Xbox," he grinned to himself, sliding along the hardwood floor with his socks towards the kitchen. Matthew's door slammed open as he passed by it, revealing a very tired-looking Canadian and his Dutch friend.

"What the Hell, Al?" Matthew muttered.

"We don't really feel like listening to your American pop right now, Jones," Martijn complained, voice monotone.

"It's fucking Cake, bro," Alfred pointed at the Dutch male, now sliding backwards. "So shut your face."

"Great," Martijn replied. "Now your listening to dessert items. Shows how fat you truly are."

"Yeah, you can suck on my fat c-"

"Both of you should really shut the Hell up," Matt piped up, standing at the doorway on the small kitchen, gripping the counter edge next to him.

Alfred had turned around, his attention diverted towards the fridge.

Matthew huffed angrily and Martijn grinned lazily, giving the Canadian a friendly pat on the shoulder. He then quickly snaked his hand down his friend's shoulder and into his plaid shirt pocket. "_Ja? Nu? Roken?_"

Matthew rolled his eyes before disappearing for a moment, reappearing with a small lighter.

Martijn whooped and Alfred jumped in surprise, smacking the back of his head on the bottom of the freezer door's handle.

Matthew couldn't help but laugh.

.

.

.

Alfred groaned, rolling over onto his stomach. He curled up into himself, bringing his blankets with him. Navi purred happily on his forgotten pillow, fast asleep.

"Poutine is fucking CARB OVERKILL," Alfred shouted at his closed bedroom door, hoping his Canadian twin heard him. "My stomach is killing me." he sniffed, nuzzling his blankets as he pulled the blankets over his head.

"I'm so fucking bored, Navi," Alfred turned around and looked back at the annoyed stare of his cat. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. "What to do.."

He tickled his cat's neck, enjoying the way the feline instantly began to purr and lean into the touch, immediately showing more neck for Alfred.

Alfred cooed over his cat for a while, coddling the poor thing before laughing and letting the little feline jump over him and off the bed, making his way to the small makeshift cat-bed in the opposite corner.

"Facebook it is," Alfred sighed, unplugging his iPod and tapping the screen a few times.

Navi stared at him lazily from across the room.

Alfred huffed, his thumbs tapping on the screen noiselessly.

Alfred read statuses, comments, looked at pictures, anything and everything to relieve his boredom. Refreshing the page, he noticed he brother's name pop up.

**Matthew Williams **is now in a relationship with **Gilbert Beilschmidt**.

Alfred snorted, unsurprised, and began to scroll up, putting his whole hand into the motion.

His thumb was getting tired.

As he was about the chuck his iTouch back onto his desk, it beeped quietly as a small message popped up, from Facebook.

**One new friend request.**

Alfred nibbled on his bottom lip, staring at the notification, a certain name quietly swimming around his head.

Suddenly, the young American had a moment of doubt.

The Russian didn't know his last name. Hell, he probably didn't know how to even work a computer. Right? I mean, don't Russian's like… Go _outside_ for something to do?

Alfred was pretty sure if he even showed the older man his Droid, the Russian would think it was some kind of alien technology.

…Well, maybe not _alien technology_, but he'd probably think it was a metal-and-glass brick.

And chuck it.

Because Ivan _would _do something like that to Alfred's phone.

Alfred let an angry look make its way onto his face at the thought before smoothing out his features and shaking his head, tapping on the iPod's screen a couple of times.

**Иван Брагинский **would like to be friends! Accept - Decline.

Alfred made a face. "Who the fuck is N..Nib…Nibah..errruughhhffnn." Alfred swore he felt his brain slowly die the longer he stared at the Cyrillic. "Fuck it." He accepted the request, quickly tapping the name more times than necessary.

And there he was.

_Ivan whateverthefuckhislastnameis._ Alfred stared at his iPod with wide eyes.

"Oh, fuck," Alfred muttered, slowly feeling his face grow hot.

It didn't help that the Russian seemed to be extremely photogenic.

.

.

.

The next day, Gilbert cornered Alfred in the Maternity section.

"So I saw that you have a new Facebook friend, Jones," He stated casually, leaning against an empty clothing rack.

Alfred eyed him warily. "Is Mattie putting you up to this?"

"The awesome me doesn't need to answer that."

"Really."

"Ja. So. I remembered him from a few weeks ago," Gilbert gave him a toothy smirk. "What'd you do, blow him in the men's department?"

"I'm going to beat you with a bat."

"He seems old. He's wearing a suit in his profile picture. Really young-looking face though."

"So fucking hard, man. A metal bat."

"Don't tell me he's your Sugar Daddy."

"There's going to be _so much blood_."

"Oh man, I'm getting some awesome fucking ideas with how I'm going to tell your step-father-"

At that, the American suddenly lashed out and grabbed the Prussian by his work-shirt's collar and pant leg and effectively shoved him onto the empty clothing rack, the force making it fall over and drag the Albino man with it.

Alfred sniffed and eyed the groaning Prussian with a bored look before walking away like nothing happened.

Ludwig silently massaged his temples, having seen the small mishap when he walked out of his office to check on the store.

.

.

.

When Alfred had returned home, he immediately had the butt of a hockey stick connect with his solar plexus by an angry Matthew.

To put it simply, Alfred was confused and wanted an apology.

He said as much.

Matthew had replied by whacking his shins full-force.

.

.

.

"Fuck," Alfred muttered, babying his shins while hiding under his blankets. "Someone's on their man period." he whimpered pathetically, rubbing the tender skin with a light touch.

Something underneath his pillow beeped.

The mystery object beeped once more.

And again.

Alfred hummed, reaching under his pillow and uncovered his iPod.

**Facebook:**

**1 New Message.2 New Notifications.**

Alfred's breath hitched and he tapped the screen a few times, blushing as he saw the Cyrillic from last night pop up on his notifications.

.

.

So ~ I was visiting my father at a U.S. Airforce base in Virginia, and it was fun... but people kept trying to recruit me and my brother.  
Even though we kept telling them we weren't U.S. citizens.  
Um.  
But then, on our first flight to Newark (so we could get on our connecting flight on Air Canada) we had the Homeland security officer question us.  
As to why we wanted to go to New Jersey. Why we were going. Why we were in Virginia. If I was missing school. And then asked the same questions in a different order.  
It kind of annoyed me but I guess I know where he's coming from but _come on_. My mom said it was "probably because he thought you were from Germany".

Derp anyway I still love visiting places:D

OH! Sorry if this chapter seems choppy.  
And.. Does anyone wanted a one-shot? RusAme? Eh?  
Been trying to write for my other fics but it's been.  
Herp Derp derp derp derp herp derp derp.


	9. Chapter 9

Hi. This is late. My apologies. It's 2 AM.

**Pairing:** Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** I disclaim:(  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. Really. And some sexy time in this chapter.

.

.

**Mix - 09**

**Иван Бьагинский **Are you working on your portfolio for your dream of becoming a porn star, Alfred?

Alfred made a face at the comment on his profile picture. It wasn't like it was an extremely provocative picture - if anything, it was pretty normal for Alfred to have it as his profile picture.

_Stupid Russian._

Scrolling up, Alfred stared at the aforementioned "porn star" picture. He was standing in front of his bathroom's mirror, angling his cell phone in his hand, clad only in his American flag boxers.

The American didn't understand how it was even remotely something pornographic.

Seriously, look at those _awesome_ boxers. And he couldn't help but think how _attractive_ he looked in them, with his tight abdominal muscles and hip bones and strong shoulders.

_Damn_, was he ever so attractive.

Alfred nodded at his decidedly incredibly attractive portrait, pleased with himself.

**Alfred Jones** shut up

"Fuck," Alfred immediately regretted clicking the comment button. "That was so _stupid_."

**Иван Бьагинский likes your photo.**

"Okay," Alfred swallowed. "Message time." Alfred hesitated momentarily at he dragged the arrow on the screen towards the small message icon on the left corner of the window. He coughed, fidgeting around in his chair.

After a few silent minutes, the American sighed. "This is stupid," he announced to himself. "I'm Alfred _fucking_ Jones and I _don't_ get nervous. I'm acting like some kind of school girl with a crush." He paused. "I don't get crushes. I don't get attached." The teenager grinned. "Fuck yeah!"

With newfound enthusiasm, the American spun around in his chair and faced his laptop, tapping the touch pad more times than necessary.

**Иван Бьагинский **Hello, Alfred! I have not seen you in two weeks. I am sure you have missed me, Да?

**Alfred Jones **hi ivan… not really no. i'm not a chick. why would I miss you. wtf. in your dreams, man.

**Иван Бьагинский **Ah, you wound me, little American. I have surely missed our.. Encounters. What is "wtf"?

**Alfred Jones** you sound like a goof. and wtf is what the fuck.

**Иван Бьагинский **A goof, Alfred?

**Alfred Jones **a pedophile =l what do you want

**Иван Бьагинский **Ah! Such bitter words you type. What is your number? That is the actual reason I have contacted you.

Alfred grumbled, his face bright red. He didn't mean to be so snappy; it happens when he feels embarrassed. He looked away from the laptop's screen and over to his bed, where a small plush alien sat, Navi using him as a pillow for his little head. The cat's eyes were half-lidded, relaxed. "I wish I was a cat," Alfred mumbled, envious of the life his cat lead.

Worriless, easy, quiet.

Alfred looked back at his laptop and let out a huff.

**Alfred Jones** do NOT ever call me for phone sex…

.

.

.

In the darkness of Alfred's room, _Biffy Clyro_ began to fill the silence abruptly. The young American groaned in protest, shifting farther away from the shouting cell phone that laid under his pillow.

The tune stopped momentarily before starting up again.

"_Fuck,_" Alfred gave up on ignoring the ringing of his cell phone, grabbing the sleek gadget and tapping the screen, answering the call from a random number. "What." was his greeting when he finally had the phone up to his ear.

"Ah, privyet, Alfred," the voice sounded slightly taken aback.

"Ivan?" Alfred rolled over to his stomach and lifted his upper half slightly, leaning on his forearms. "It's three A.M."

"I could not sleep," was the simple reply.

"So," Alfred held back a yawn. "you decided to call your fuck buddy?"

"Such vulgar words out of such a young mouth!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'd take that as a yes."

There was a giggle on the other end. "Da. I was wondering.."

"Oh god," Alfred moaned, interrupting the older male.

"If you would be so kind as to-"

"_Phone sex_?" Alfred's voice was clearly appalled. "How the fuck did I know, I just-"

"Would you kindly?" Alfred could almost see the Russian pouting, eyebrows furrowed sadly, eyes slightly wider than normal. The Russian had the sort of face that would pull that off quite well, Alfred decided as he pictured the older man.

_Fuck._

Alfred sighed and whined lowly and ignored the small, miniscule pang he felt.

"Sure, big guy, lets have at it." There was a low chuckle that sounded right after those words were spoken; the sort of chuckle that exposed the Russian's usual childish tone as a façade - a clever, unneeded cover that clouded opinions and tricked minds of all kinds.

"What are you wearing, my little American?"

.

.

.

Alfred listened to the low groans and shuddering breathes coming from his cell phone, his head swimming and spinning and lost. He was lost in Ivan's sounds; the groans and the moans and _breathing_. Every so often Ivan's breathing would hitch and Alfred's member would twitch. The older man would mumble words in his native tongue; words, sentences, names. Alfred paid so much attention to everything that came out of the Russian's mouth and it drove him so close to the edge.

"Ah," Alfred's breath hitched when the Russian let out a small whine and a sudden low purr from the back of his throat. "_oh_," he groaned lowly, his hand rubbing his member slightly faster. "_o-oh, oh.. Ff- o-oh,_" Alfred's breathing sped up and he leaned back, he legs spreading out wider, his hand stroking faster.

"_Mm, dorogoy_, say my name," Ivan's voice was a low purr that sent shivers through the American's body; God that _voice_.

"I-Ivan, Ivan, oh- o-oh," breathlessly spent, heat pooled in Alfred's groin and the younger male grunted and whined lowly as he uncoiled and soiled his boxers. "_God._" Alfred could barely catch his breathe as he listened to the older man lose himself as well.

Alfred felt boneless, tired, warm.

"_Spasibo_, Alfred," the Russian said breathlessly, breathing into the phone as he tried to catch his breathe.

Alfred's reply was a breathless hum, and the young American once again ignored the small pang in his chest as the Russian said his goodnight and hung up.

.

.

.

Alfred stared blankly at the wall opposite of him as he leaned against the counter, a mug of coffee cradled in his shaking hands. The area under his eyes were coloured a dark purple; his usually bright eyes were dimmed to a shaded blue as he continued to blankly stare at the kitchen's wall with a blank face, his mind running wild.

The American sipped at the bitter drink and ignored the noises his brother made when he walked in and made himself a bowl of cereal.

He ignored the noises of he brother reaching around him to put his bowl in the sink.

He ignored the voice of his brother, asking if he was alright.

He ignored the shifting of fabric as the Canadian shrugged and made his way out the door, quickly reminding him of his shift at the store.

He ignored the way he felt himself crack under the weight of his stupid thoughts and his stupid heart and his stupid way of being _so fucking stupid_.

Sometimes, Alfred couldn't help but hate the way he silently _begged _for the affection he had been deprived of ever since he was a kid.

.

.

Dorogoy (Cyrillic: дорогой): Darling.  
Sasibo (Cyrillic: Спасибо): Thank you/thanks.

Sorry this is late. I haven't been in a very good mood. If anyone wants a one shot, or is willing to give me a prompt, I'll gladly take it. It'll distract me.  
Thanks, have a nice night/day. I'm going to bed.

If you find any typos, please feel free to tell correct me. I don't.. just, yeah. Cool.

Oh yeah. 107, you guys are really awesome. I'd be friends with all of you forever. Seriously.


	10. Chapter 10

You guys are the greatest. Honestly. You all make my days _that_ much brighter. It's cool beans, guys. 126 reviews. I've _never_ gotten that many.

By the way, this is an awkward chapter. Really, it is.

**Pairing:**Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** Yup.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. _Really_.

.

.

**Mix - 10**

Alfred blankly stared at his computer screen, his leg subconsciously bouncing to an irregular beat. Fingers entwining and twisting and the blank word document being just_ that_, blank.

The only thing that occupied the window was the single blinking vertical line and the cursor.

Alfred held his breath momentarily before exhaling loudly, letting out a low whine.

What was he doing again?

He sat up and quickly placed his fingers over random keys, his leg still bouncing, his stare still blank. His entire mind was blank.

"Fuck," he muttered. "What the hell was I supposed to do?" He looked away from the screen, at his phone. It blinked silently, a quiet reminder that made his stomach lurch.

_3 Missed Calls._

"Al?"

The American's foot suddenly bucked at the surprise he felt at his brother's voice, making his entire frame lurch backwards.

Alfred found himself looking at his brother's upside down figure from the hardwood floor, his mind fuzzy and his back sore.

"Mattie," Alfred's nostrils were flared, his heart beating wildly. "please don't do that."

"Do what?" the Canadian seemed confused. "I've been calling your name for the past five minutes."

Alfred suddenly felt anxious. "You were? Why? Was someone here? Did I get a call?"

_Was it Ivan?_

_Did he come to check up on me?_

_Was he asking about me?_

_What?_

"Al, _Al_," the Canadian frowned. "Are you feeling okay? I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go to a restaurant with some friends before we're all back in University."

"Friends?" Alfred quickly rolled over onto his stomach and lifted himself off. "Friends! Hell yeah, totally! I'll totally eat some supper with you and friends! Yeah!"

Matthew gave him a suspicious look, replying, "Al..right..? We're going at seven… Be ready, eh?"

Alfred waved his hand, giving his twin a strained smile. "Yeah, sure, definitely, sure."

.

.

.

"When you said friends," Alfred muttered. "I thought you meant _friends_, not our step dad and a few of his colleagues." he tilted his head slightly to glared at his twin. "What the _fuck_, Mattie?"

The Canadian seemed sheepish as his shoulders rose and fell, a mute reply to Alfred's heated words.

"You wouldn't have if I told you the truth, eh?" Matthew gave his brother a secret smile. "Arthur misses you."

"Are you _high_?" Alfred whispered loudly, lips pulled back in disgust. "And Arthur thinks _I'm _the bad kid_?"_

"The cooks that work here are from England," was Matthew's simple reply.

Alfred groaned, slouching in his seat. "Kill me now."

"What are you doing?" Alfred jumped in his seat, his knee slamming into the underside of the wooden table he and Matthew were sitting at. "Are you daft? You don't sit like that in public!"

"Fff-" the American clutched at his knee, his face red. "-uck! Fuck! Fuck shit! Fuck!" he cursed loudly, earning him a firm slap in the back of the head. "Fuck! Don't_ do_ that! Oh my God!"

"And I thought you'd learn more manners when you went to University," Arthur sniffed, finally taking a seat across from the two teenagers.

The Englishman smiled kindly at Alfred's twin, setting his elbows on the table and resting his rest upon his clasped hands. "Matthew," he greeted.

"Hello," Matthew coughed, trying not to laugh at the scene that had just taken place. "I'm glad to see you've made it here alright."

Arthur nodded, "Yes, well, I as well. Have you ordered anything yet?"

Matthew shook his head.

Alfred kindly replied, "Drop dead, Arthur," with a sweet smile.

The Englishman's smile twitched at the American's response. "Yes, well, some of my colleagues will be joining us soon enough. Lets gets some water, at least, hmm?"

"Of course," Matthew replied with an easy smile. "I'm getting kind of hungry, though."

"Yeah, I bet," Alfred murmured, busying his hands by fixing the collar of his shirt. Under the table, Matthew gave the American a swift kick to the shin.

Alfred grunted in response. "This has got to be some form of child abuse."

"Alfred, kindly shut up. My colleagues are here and I'd rather not have you embarrass me."

The American pulled back his lips into a sneer and tilted his head. "Anything you say, Daddy. I can call you that, right, _Daddy_?"

"You most certainly may no- Hello!" Arthur turned away and looked over at the figures standing behind the two teenagers. "I'm glad you could make it, Mr. Braginski…. Francis."

"Ah! _Oui, oui_! There was so much traffic but we are here! And oh, you have saved me a seat right beside you," Francis spoke cheerfully, seemingly prancing towards the Englishman. "Arthur, you are so sweet!"

Arthur's smile twitched as the man continued speaking, taking his seat next to the Englishman and sliding his chair slightly closer. Alfred stared at the two, unimpressed.

"I'd hardly call your new husband a business colleague, Arthur."

The Englishman kept his facial expression neutral as the other person sat down next to the American.

Alfred continued. "I, however, would like to meet this Mister Bra-gin…" the farther Alfred turned his head to face the other male, the more difficulty he had speaking. "Ah… Ngh-"

Ivan tilted his head slightly, a sort of smirk on his face. "Bra-gin-ski," he said, pronunciation slow and words smooth with his accent. "Hello, it is nice to meet you, ah.." Ivan turned to look at the American's stepfather questioningly.

"Alfred," Arthur supplied.

Ivan turned back to the Alfred, his smirk a little wider. "Alfred."

.

.

Oh no, I suck! No, seriously, I do. I meant this to be a pretty long chapter with more events but then I noticed it was 1 AM and I have important projects to be working on early tomorrow! Sweet diddly, school is trying to kill my spirit.  
Well, actually.. School and Assassin's Creed II: Brotherhood. I _swear_ that game is some kind of addicting. I just ;A; I just... fjdkslfjkdfkdsljfdllllllll..  
That, and the music made me pass out until 5. Really, Ubisoft, the AC soundtrack couldn't be more soothing, I'll be downloading it to get a good night's sleep.

Anyway, this chapter was very awkward, eh?


	11. Chapter 11

SORRY THIS IS LATE fdsjhfkldjkfjfkldskf. ahhh whatever. I purchased and iTouch and go carried away with the amazement. I'm broke /sob  
Slightly unedited. Feel free to point out mistakes, but don't be a dick.

**Pairing: **Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** Yup.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. _Really_. - Certain sexy stuff happens, but nothing that mind-scarring. It's coo'.

.

.

**Mix - 11**

Alfred, straining to keep the polite smile on his face, felt his stomach drop as soon as his mind registered exactly who was sitting beside him.

Ivan.

_Ivan._

Fucking. Ivan.

Alfred turned away from the older male to look at the two men across from him, his mouth agape and his lips twitching. Arthur raised an eyebrow as the American sat back and laughed, humorless.

"It would fucking figure," he mumbled to himself, a crooked smile adorning his face.

"What was that, Alfred?" Arthur asked, folding his hands and tilting his head with a polite smile.

Alfred's smile dropped slowly as his mind continued to run a mile a minute with twisted, mixed thoughts. "Nothing," he replied. "Is everyone ready to order? I'm starving!"

"Da. I am quite hungry myself," Ivan leaned his forearms on the table and flashed an innocent smile.

"Long day at the office, _oui_, Braginski?" Francis asked, placing a napkin on his lap before attempting to hold hands with the Englishman beside him.

The corners on Ivan's lips quirked in response. "Da."

Alfred snorted, making Arthur send a sharp look his way. Ivan chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"Alfred. What do you do?" Ivan tilted his head to stare at the American, his expression mock-curious. Alfred made a face and crunched up his nose, staring at the Russian with suspicion. The younger male slid farther away from the man before replying.

"I work at a department store part-time. I'm a student at UBC. I study Political Science. My minor is History," Alfred replied flatly, and leaving no room for small talk, turned to his stepfather. "what have you been working on that made you need to have a dinner with us and your colleagues?"

The Englishman hesitated momentarily before replying. "We're working on a project that has us flying over to the Russian Federation for a few weeks. Ivan is accompanying us as a translator and," Arthur waved his hand, dismissing the rest of his explanation. "I'm sure you're not enough of an idiot to get yourself killed while we're away, correct?"

The American gave his stepfather an impressed look, a pain swelling in his chest. "Oh."

"You'll have Matthew," Francis spoke up, noticing Alfred's smile wavering. "you will not be alone~ n'est-ce pas? You have many friends, Alfred!"

"Yeah, duh," Alfred laughed. "I'm going to head to the bathroom!"

The American stood up and walked off before anyone could reply.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear, that boy has no manners whatsoever."

The Russian took this chance to chuckle and speak up. "It is quite alright, that is youth today, da? I must make a call, though. Forgive me, I will not be long."

Arthur gave him a polite smile and nod, turning to look at the Canadian sitting across from him.

"Oh, hello, Matthew," Arthur smiled at the younger male, looking pleasantly surprised.

The teenager rolled his eyes. Forgotten once again. "Hi, Arthur."

.

.

.

"This is fucking stupid," Alfred whispered to himself, letting his head loll back as he unzipped his trousers and sighed in relief. "You have to stop being such a pussy. It doesn't mean anything, _dipshit_. It never did."

The American groaned slightly and he finished relieving himself, not hearing the bathroom door squeak open and then shut; he was oblivious to the click of a door lock as he focused on zipping his trousers back up.

"Not so fast, my little American."

Alfred yelped as long arms encircled his slim figure and pushed him forward, trapping him in between the urinal and the tall Russian.

Alfred swallowed.

Hard.

He left out a long, calming breathe before speaking, "this is gross. Do you know how many germs must be on this urinal? Oh, God," the American cringed, wiggling around in the larger man's grip. "off."

Ivan laughed, the sound deep and intoxicating to Alfred's ears. "That is correct.. I would rather you watch this, also."

"What?" suddenly, the American was being pulled backwards by the older man. The Russian navigated the way awkwardly until his was leaning heavily against the wall adjacent to a large vanity mirror.

Why there was a vanity mirror, Alfred didn't know.

_European restaurants are always kind of faggot-y that way._

Alfred was pulled from his thoughts at the Russian's deep, monotone rumbling in his ear. "You have missed me?" Ivan's lips kissed the shell of the younger male's ear, making Alfred's breathe hitch.

Alfred nodded dumbly, unthinking. Ivan couldn't help the slight smile that stretched his lips at the teenager's response. "Good."

Alfred's response was only a strangled noise in the back of his throat as the Russian lifted his polo and ran his large hands down, down, down, until he got to the button of his trousers. All the while Ivan chose to whisper dirty things into the American's ear in his native tongue, his voice smooth and alluring to the young male. Ivan grazed his teeth against Alfred's throat, eliciting a strangled giggle from him.

Ivan placed an open mouth kiss against Alfred's nape before looking up into the mirror, straight at the younger male. "You want this?"

It was hardly a question.

Alfred, thoughts flying away, nodded and spread his legs slightly, letting the Russian unbutton and tug his trousers down to his ankles. His boxers followed soon after, and Ivan let out a long breath.

"You have gained weight, I see," Alfred's face reddened at the comment, and Ivan laughed. "Is a joke. You are…" Ivan let out a long breath and lifted Alfred's shirt, slowly running his hands against taught muscle. Alfred let out a shaky breathe as Ivan's right hand trailed down towards his crotch. "Gorgeous."

The younger male let out a long, low moan as Ivan's hand grasped his member and stroked painstakingly slow. "_Oh._"

Ivan smirked. "Open your eyes and watch, _Dorogoy_," he nipped the American's earlobe with care. "Watch _us_."

.

.

.

Before Ivan left the younger male to clean himself up before returning to the dinner table, he had taken the American's hand and placed a kissed upon his fingertips. "I have missed your obnoxious presence also."

Alfred made a face. "You're too sweet," he replied sarcastically, before hesitating momentarily. "We need to talk later. Tomorrow. Whenever. Before you leave."

"Leave?"

"Russia."

"Da. Very well. Do not take too long, it is quite rude."

Alfred snorted, watching the Russian walk towards to bathroom's entrance. "Says the man who just jerked off their colleague's son."

Ivan turned, unlocking the door. "step-son," he smirked, leaving.

Alfred couldn't help but scoff and laugh at the same time.

.

.

.

"What in the bloody Hell were you doing in there?" Arthur asked as soon as the teen returned to their dinner table. "_Making_ the loo?"

Alfred snorted. "_Loo_," he repeated in a mock-British accent. "Mattie made some tacos for lunch."

"No I did- _ow! Fuck you, Alfred_!"

The entire dinner table seemed to ignore the Canadian's input, and Arthur gave the American a weary look. "That is disgusting, Alfred."

The American shrugged in response, leaning his forearms on the table and stretching his legs out. Ivan placed a hand on the younger male's knee to still it, keeping it there even after Alfred had stopped shifting around.

Alfred pinked slightly and grinned at the French man who was staring straight at him, an odd look in his eyes and his arms crossed.

"Is everyone ready to order?" Alfred asked suddenly, taking the menu and shoving it in his face in a lame attempt to block out Francis's odd look.

_._

_._

_Usagi323:_ thank you, i'm very glad you thought chapter 10 was amazing! I'm very flattered.  
_love:_ I'm sorryyy. Does this make it up for you? I hope. :)  
_Edwin Shiney:_ Haha, thank you kindly. I'm very glad you're amused and enjoying my story. Hope you enjoyed chapter 11! Cheers.

Anyway. I've been sick for the past while and have been sleep more than normal (normally I sleep very much, too). I kept passing out while writing this, it was pretty bad. Hope it wasn't choppy or lame or anything. Blah. blahblahblah.

Tschüs! Enjoy your night/morning/afternoon.

Edit: Ginormous thanks to _BlumeShullman _for correcting my French. You're awesome.


	12. Chapter 12

Hey, guys. Sorry that this is late. I've had work for the past 4 days nonstop and just yeah anyway yeah i'm really tired and it's 3:30 AM so i didn't exactly edit this  
i'm sorry  
enjoy, eh?

**Pairing:**Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** Yup.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. _Really_.

.

.

**Mix - 12**

Alfred stood in the Vitamin isle, putting a foot on the stepladder in front of him, glaring.

"I have to fucking relocate all you son's-a-bitches," he said to them. "Like a boss."

"Alfred-"

The American yelped, kicking his stepladder forward and hitting the back of his head against the shelf, frightened.

"… That was highly unnecessary," Ivan sighed.

Alfred's face reddened as he turned to look at the Russian, looking embarrassed. The American mumbled something incoherently, rubbing the back of his head.

Ivan looked slightly sheepish as the American bent over and retrieved the ladder, folding it and leaving it to lean against the isle. "Stalking me now?" he gave Ivan a teasing smile, straightening.

"Nyet," was the quick reply. The Russian soon after held up a basket of travel-sized toiletries. The younger male's smile twitched slightly before disappearing altogether.

"Oh. I see," he nodded, turning away from the older man, taking a few vitamin bottles and throwing them into a box. Trying to sound nonchalant, he continued. "That's cool. Must be excited to be going back to Russia and stuff."

Ivan shrugged, hiding the bottom of his face with his scarf.

"Try not to miss me too much," Alfred's voice dripped with sarcasm, not being able to stop talking. He shrugged his shoulders and fixed the hood of his pullover, ran a hand through his hair before mussing it up again, tugged his pants up slightly. "Cos, you know, I'm just _so_ fucking impor-"

Ivan attempted a strangled laugh. "You look like you want to kill something, Dorogoy."

Alfred turned to the Russian, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed, his lips stretched back into a scowl. "Why the fuck would I want to kill something?"

The Russian looked highly uncomfortable.

"Please stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"You _know_ what, Alfred."

"Well, I don't know, Ivan -fucking- Braginski! You know my parents - and, just," Alfred paused, his breathing heavy. "You know how much shit I'm going to be in if they found out I'm fucking one of their colleagues?"

Ludwig had managed to walk past as the American spoke, leaving him both flustered and annoyed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in and out.

"Alfred, if you are going to have an argument, please proceed to the break room, at least," Ludwig spoke up, walking towards the two men. "Also," he turned to Ivan. "Hallo. Do you want some help?"

"Nyet. I apologize. I will be leaving now," Ivan replied, not unkindly. "Spasibo."

Ludwig nodded, turned to glare at Alfred, and walked away.

Ivan turned to Alfred after he finished watching the German turning into another isle. "You will not have to worry," the Russian smiled childishly. "our little.. Adventures will not be happening anymore, da?"

Alfred stared up at the Russian with wide eyes, taking a step back. "Ahm," the American cleared his throat. His throat closed up momentarily, a slightly pressure building in the back of his eyes forming. He coughed and stretched his lips, forming a faulty smile. "Oh," he took another step back, slowly, slowly, walking backwards, away from Ivan. "Yeah."

Ivan stared at the American curiously, watching him back away, feeling dread build up in his chest.

What did he just do?

"I- I mean like, like, it wasn't like we were doing anything but that, and, like," Alfred laughed, humorless, as he tripped over a stray basket of vitamin bottles he had placed early. His back hitting the ground, he grunted. "Like, we didn't have anything more than that fuck-buddy-friendship and you can just go now, alright? Have a good time in Russia, asshole, okay? And just _fuck you_, bro," Alfred rolled over and lifted himself from the store's floor, swiftly walking away from the isle and towards the break room, his walking speed gaining each step he took.

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"Alfred~" Feliciano skipped towards the American, pausing when he saw the younger man's face. "_Dio mio_, Alfred, are you okay?"

Alfred jumped slightly, looking up from his lap. "Oh, hey, buddy," he smiled weakly. "I'm just tired."

"You look sick, _mi amico_," Feliciano looked up at the American, who was sitting in the back room's table, next to the label printer. "Do you have a cold?"

"Nah, Feliciano," Alfred shook his head. "Ah, I just.."

Alfred mumbled something incoherently, looking pained.

"Eh? Speak up! ve ~" Feliciano smiled airily.

Alfred choked momentarily. "I think I gained feelings for the wrong person, Feliciano," The American gripped the edge of the table tightly. "I kind of hate myself for it."

Feliciano looked sad. "That can't be true, Alfred." he replied. "but, if you think so… I think we should go out drinking tonight, ve ~"

As the words came from his mouth, Alfred looked skeptical. Bad things always seemed to happen when he was drunk for some reason…

"_We _as in you, me… Ludwig.."

"Romano and his boyfriend and a bunch of other people, ve~" Feliciano smiled excitedly. "Please, Alfred! I want you be to happy! Ve ~"

Alfred couldn't help but smile at the petite man's excitement. "Alright, Feliciano," he grinned. "Just for you."

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Alfred threw his head back and swallowed the last of his beer in one breathe, giving a loud gasp as he slammed his cup back into the table. "This was awesome, you guys," he grinned, head lolling back. HE slid down his seat a little more, out of it completely.

"Fuck, guys, he's so drunk," Gilbert laughed, his arm around Matthew's shoulders. "I think it's time he gets his ass home."

"Ja," Ludwig replied, lying his head on the table, also inebriated. Feliciano clung to him tightly, whispering little things in his ear that made his lips twitch upwards.

Alfred leaned his head against the wall as he watched the couple huddle together, whispering, his expression longing.

"Hey, Al, you wanna head home now?" Matthew piped up, leaning over the table to get his attention. Alfred turned to his, eyes half lidded.

Giving his brother a small smile, he nodded. "Yeah, Mattie, I do."

The Canadian gave him a small smile and nodded, standing up, until a large hand rested heavily on his shoulder.

"No worries, comrade," an accented voice accompanied the hand. "I shall return your sibling home safely."

"Aren't you-"

The Russian shushed his, smiling. Matthew shivered slightly at the look, uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and simply nodded, turning back towards his friends.

Heavy footsteps fell until they reached a nearly passed-out Alfred Jones. "Come, Dorogoy, let us bring you home safely, da?"

Alfred mumbled back a low 'okay', wrapping his arms around the Russian's neck when he bent down to retrieve the younger man. The Russian stumbled slightly at the sudden weight and the slight haziness his mind had from drinking a bit too many shots.

Stumbling towards his abandoned table, his picked up his last shot and quickly drank it, throwing the tiny glass carelessly before making his way out of the small pub, the American sleepily stumbling along with him, eyes closed.

_._

_._

_love: _Thank you! Very much. I'm glad you enjoyed chapter 11.

Anyway. I'm re-editing both Absolute and TGMTEL, you guys. Look out for those. And Violet's one-shot!:3  
Btw: I'll reply to your messages tomorrow, I'm sleepy and I feel like crap and my brother keeps calling my useless. I wanna sleep this day off.

and if anyone has any suggestions on something they want for a one shot i'm totally up for it. i wanna fill up this gigantic hole in the RusAme fanbase on this freaking site. and i edited some French in chapter 11 thank to the freaking awesome person that i credited after i edited because yeah. and anyway if anyone cares, i remade my tumblr because i was bored. and. i deleted my old one because an old friend was harassing me via askbox. anyway! yeah. it's hallovegard (dot) tumblr (dot) com

okay bye


	13. Chapter 13

You guys really do make my day whenever I read your reviews, so I'd like to take this time to say thank you. And that I didn't mean to take so long on this chapter, shit just came up.

**Pairing:**Russia/America or Ivan/Alfred  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** Yup.  
**Warnings:** Homosexual stuff. In this fan fiction. If you don't like it. I do not give a shit. _Really_.

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**Mix - 13**

Alfred wobbled dangerously, leaning his entire weight on the Russian man beside him. He mumbled things incoherently, keeping his eyes closed and his arms around the larger male. Occasionally he'd cough violently and gag slightly before loosing his footing and falling to the ground.

Ivan sighed with exasperation, his own footing shaky, keeping an arm around the younger male's waste to keep him from face-planting once again.

He dug his fingers into Alfred's shirt as he lost his footing once again.

"Be careful," Ivan whispered, breaking the silence that had fallen over the streets. Alfred mumbled an incoherent reply.

"Hmm?" Ivan hummed curiously, his slow gait coming to a dead stop. Looking down at the American, he asked, "What did you say?"

"I said," Alfred mumbled, breaking away from Ivan's grasped. He wobbled dangerously before straightening up awkwardly. "Better enjoy this little adventure, 'cos it ain't gonna happen again," he snapped.

Ivan stared at the younger man, taken aback.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Alfred?" The Russian's voice was sickly sweet, his hands folded behind his back and legs spread to the width of his shoulders. Alfred growled.

"You're emotionally blind, do you know that!" Alfred practically screeched, staring at his hands with a disbelieving look. "_Fuck_, I'm, I-" Alfred fell onto his knees and dry-heaved once more.

Ivan sighed once more. "I believe you may have had one too many drinks."

Alfred looked up, swallowing with difficulty. "I wonder whose _fault_ it is, you _cock_."

"Very mature, Alfred, really," Ivan replied sarcastically, getting down on one knee to retrieve the inebriated American.

Alfred made a noise as Ivan lifted his arms to pick him up and quickly shoved the Russian.

Hard.

Ivan cursed loudly as the back of his head met the concrete sidewalk.

"Oh, _fuck_, Ivan," Alfred crawled over to the Russian on his hands and knees. "Oh God, I'm- I-" Alfred began to hyperventilate at the site before him. "I fucking killed him, _fuck_."

The American began to paw at the older man's chest, whining, repeatedly saying 'sorry'.

Ivan groaned. "I am not dead, you ungrateful _brat_ of a man."

And that's when Alfred heaved the content of his stomach onto the asphalt, Ivan's scarf, and his own pants.

"_Fuck_," Alfred whined, wiping his mouth and tears simultaneously. He stomach gurgled loudly and he let out a small sob. "you made me throw up."

Ivan simply laid there, eyes looking towards the heavens, breathing heavily. "Give me one reason," Ivan's voice was frighteningly steady. "Why I should not castrate you on the spot."

Alfred gurgled pathetically, crawling closer to the larger man with wide eyes. Putting his arms around the Russian, Alfred mumbled, "Like you. 'Lot.." before he breathe instantly evened out.

Ivan wiggled his arm, a lame attempt to shake the boy awake.

Ivan sighed after a few more failed attempts. "You will be the death of me, Alfred Jones."

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Ivan lifted the younger male by his underarms and sits him in his shower after checking the temperature of the water.

Just a little hotter than warm, even though Ivan himself liked scalding hot showers.

Alfred stirred lightly but didn't wake up, and Ivan sighed. He stripped himself of his clothes and folded them neatly, placing them on his bathroom's counter with care before stepping into the warm shower and closing the door.

"You smell disgusting," he told his sleeping … what was he, to Ivan? A friend? Comrade? His thoughts trailed back to the night he met Alfred and mad a face.

_Comrade Cement_.

Shaking his head from the unpleasant thought, he reached up to grab a washcloth and his bar of soap.

"You annoy me," he commented once more to his sleeping companion. "And you're loud. Especially during sex." He couldn't help but smirk. "You exclaim my name like it is the only thing you know how to say."

The Russian carefully ran the washcloth across the younger man's face and neck. His strokes were gentle and methodical and soothing, and he soon found himself lost in the process, humming a light tune from his childhood.

Eventually, he found himself wiping clean the inside of Alfred's thighs, and he paused to bend down and place a light kiss to it. "You are foolish," he whispered, voice fond. "You make me smile without even trying."

Finishing up with rinsing the younger man off and quickly shampooing his hair, he shut off the shower and lifted the young man up, putting a towel around the American instead of himself.

After dressing Alfred in a warm, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of Ivan's own boxers, the Russian dressed himself in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Goodnight, Alfred," Ivan mumbled, his thumb brushing across the young man's cheek bone like a feather. The older man leaned in to press a kiss to Alfred's forehead, his cheek, and finally a small kiss to his lips before rolling over onto his stomach and passing out.

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The next morning, Alfred woke up with a splitting headache and an unsettled stomach. "Oh, God," he groaned to himself, crawling under to blankets more. "Not again.."

The sheets beside him rustled quietly until a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around the American's middle. Tensing slightly, his chest tightening, he remembered the events of last night until the moment he threw up and passed out on top of Ivan, and Alfred felt a heavy guilt.

The American rolled over in the Russian's arms and let himself be hugged, wrapping his own arm around the Russian. He kept his eyes open, despite the incessant pounding in the back of his skull.

Ivan breathed in deeply before letting out a huff of air, still fast asleep.

Alfred let himself stare into the sleeping face of the older man, eyes wide and open with conflicting emotions. His chest was tightly, his throat dry, and he raised his hand to the exposed next.

Never had he seen the Russian's neck.

Lightly, with feather touches, the American brushed the pads of his fingers across the exposed neck, curious. The Russian responded with a light shiver to the feather-like touch before stretching his neck, accepting the like caresses as a cat would, and Alfred couldn't help the small smile that stretched his lips.

_Just like Navi._

With a little bit of maneuvering, Alfred carefully shimmied his way up (careful not to make any sudden movements because of his gurgling stomach), and pressed a small kiss to the older man's neck.

"Good morning, Ivan," Alfred mouthed against the Russian's throat before nuzzling it with the affection he was sure he'd never show to the Russian while he was awake.

And so, Alfred let himself pretend the affection was being returned when the Russian tightened his arms around the younger male.

_._

_._

Anyway! I want to reply to Violet's message but I'm so tired and it's 4 AM and I have to wake up at 6. Fuck me, right? Right. I'll reply after school:3.  
Anyway, 180 reviews. Fuck, guys. I don't deserve them, but I really do appreciate the shit out of each and every one.

Again, if anyone wants a one-shot, don't hesitate to ask.

Night, everyone.


	14. Chapter 14

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH 200 REVIEWS

I DIDN'T EDIT THIS SO I'M SORRY

**Pairing:** Russia/America  
**Fandom:** Hetalia  
**Disclaimer:** totes.  
**Warnings:** Homosexuals.

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**Mix - chapter 14**

"Al, you need to eat."

Alfred's eyebrows rose momentarily before he tugged out the ear-buds that had been blasting music into his ears for the past few hours. "What was that?" He asked, shutting of his MP3 player and pocketing it.

"You. Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I'm not asking," Matthew threw a paper bag onto the American's lap. "I'm begging you. Look, I got your favourite. McDonalds. Eat up."

Alfred lifted the bag and set it down next to him, giving his twin a look of exasperation. "Stop, Mattie. I'm really not hungry. I had a big breakfast."

"Yeah, what, like two weeks ago?" Matthew rolled his eyes, snatching up the bag. "What the Hell is up with you lately?"

"I just.. Haven't been feeling good, okay? I feel sick."

"You look fine to me.. If not a little paler than usual."

Alfred shrugged. "Just put the food in the fridge. I'll eat it later."

Matthew gave him a suspicious look, making Alfred roll his eyes and sigh in exasperation.

"I'm _not_ going to throw it out."

"When do you have work?" the Canadian asked.

"6 o'clock. Why?"

"Bring it to work," Matthew threw the bag onto Alfred's lap and walked away.

Looking down at the bag, Alfred's stomach gurgled painfully.

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As soon as Alfred got to work, he had thrown away the food his brother had bought him.

"Are you okay, Alfred?" Feliciano asked. "You never throw away food…"

"Don't worry about it, Feliciano. What isles am I straightening today?" Alfred clipped his nametag onto his shirt and ran a hand through his hair.

"You're back-up on register four and you're straightening four and two today."

"Cool," Alfred replied simply, turning on his heel and walking away.

"Oh… okay.." Feliciano replied. The Italian looked around and made a face at Ludwig. "Did you cut his hours or something, **mi amore**?"

"Nein," Ludwig replied, not looking up from the e-mail he was writing.

"Oh… Poor Alfred! He looks a little unhealthy," Feliciano pouted. "He should get medicine, ve ~"

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Alfred struggled to smile back at every customer he assisted and his hands shook every time he lifted them to straighten the items of the isles he was assigned to.

"Are you okay?" random customers would ask.

"I'm fine," Alfred would grin widely, lips twitching at the unwanted force. "I'm awesome!"

They would smile, hesitantly, and nod. They would thank him one last time before walking away.

Alfred would drop his smile and rub his eyes.

He'd zone out and stare into space with sadness.

He'd think back to the last time he woke up in Ivan's bed, only to find him gone.

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**(Two weeks earlier.)**

Ivan jolted awake and awkwardly slammed onto the plastic electronic, quickly muffling the loud buzzing before it even had time to sound. He kept his eyes closed, his back turned to block the light streaming in from the window.

Needless to say, he didn't want to wake up just head. His head hurt and he back felt like it was about to break and, really, he was too comfortable.

All of a sudden, something in front of him shifted and tightened their arms around him.

The sudden movement made Ivan pause and open his eyes, to only find a head of messy blonde hair. He leaned his head back and looked down at the serene face of Alfred, hiding his face in Ivan's shirt.

Ivan, personally, would have felt suffocated if he were to ever do that.

The older man blushed at the affection Alfred radiated - his arms tightly around the his neck and his legs tangled with the older man's.

He wasn't used to this.

This was out of his comfort zone.

Why did he feel so.. Light, though?

Elated.

His head was hurting, the pressure behind his eyes growing from the sunlight and the loud silence that left his ers ringing. But, he couldn't find the energy to be annoyed.

The Russian buried his nose in Alfred's hair and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. He leaning down and kissed the American's forehead firmly, awkwardly, uncomfortable with showing the affection he felt was overflowing from the situation.

And then, he sat up. He untangled himself carefully from the younger male, throwing his blankets on top of him to keep him warm.

He took a quick shower, made himself a small cup of coffee. Poured a little bit of vodka in said coffee, checked on the sleeping American one last time, and went on his way.

He couldn't help the slight upwards twitch of his lips along the way.

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Alfred woke up slowly, mind fuzzy, stomach unsettled. He internally groaned at the loud ringing in his ears and the strong feeling that he was going to be sick if he moved even _slightly_.

Stomach gurgling loudly, the American quickly rolled over and grasped onto…

… Nothing.

The teenager frowned and furrowed his eyebrows, blindly groping the empty space before him.

Where was Ivan?

Alfred's heart dropped as he opened his eyes to find the spot cold and unoccupied.

Seconds later he found himself running to the Russian's bathroom, his stomach's strong urge to throw everything back up from the night before suddenly uncontrollable.

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Alfred frowned, eyes distant. Feliciano looked on with a look of pity before marching up to the American and tapping him on the shoulder.

"Alfred?"

The teen jumped slightly, expression miserable, before he set eyes on the little Italian and grinned. "Hey, Feliciano, come sta?"

Feliciano smiled weakly. "You can go home early, you don't look so good," the Italian offered. Alfred slumped, smile weakening.

"Thanks, buddy…" he mumbled, saluting the assistant manager before turning around and making his way into the break room to get him coat.

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Ivan nearly growled as he pressed the call button once more, then the first name on his phone's contact list.

**Ring.**

- "_Hey, you've reached the voicemail of Alfred F. Jones! I can't pick up right now, but you can leave me an awesome voicemail and I'll get back to you whenever the hell I want!_"

"God damn it, Alfred, pick up your handphone," Ivan muttered darkly, glaring down at his phone.

People walking by shifted a few feet away from the Russian in fear.

He repeated his actions once more.

Ring.

Rin- "_Hey, you've reached the voi-_"

Ivan calmly clicked the end button on his phone and dropped it into his coat's pocket.

"Kol kol kol."

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Alfred grunted, once again clicking the little red icon on his phone, his facial expression akin to one of a kicked puppy.

_I want to talk to him. _

Alfred walked on, hands in his jeans pockets, eyes on the cement.

_But… It's because I miss him._

Alfred blindly turned the corner.

_And… he doesn't miss me. He probably just wants to-_

Alfred grunted as his face made an impact on a large, but surprisingly soft, wall.

"Oh, ah," _that's not a wall._ "I'm sorry, sir…" he looked up, sheepish.

…_fuck._

"_er.."_

"_Alfred," Ivan said, voice seemingly pleasant. "Privyet. Have you been ignoring me?"_

_._

_._

_WELL, THIS WAS LATEI NEED TO GO TO MY NEXT CLASSBUT I'M SERIOUSLY SORRY AND I'LL REPLY TO YOUR CHAPTER 13 REVIEWS AFTER I GET HOME FROM CLASS._

_FDJSGFLKER$UT^(*RGFJDSKFjdkfjdkljdsf_


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